Talitha Koum
by talitha.koum.2C4.79
Summary: Spoilers for The Last Battle: Susan Pevensie learns her siblings have just been killed in a train crash and must learn how to cope with the news.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own Susan Pevensie or the Chronicles of Narnia.**

* * *

It hadn't been a good day even before she had heard the news. She had spilled tea down her dress uniform and had missed her subway ride, which had made her late for her hair appointment. The stylist had told her the next opening he had was two weeks away. She was still trying figure out how she would get her hair fixed before the evening party when the news had come.

Susan didn't believe it, of course. Maybe if it had just been her sister, or one of her brothers, it would have been easier to believe. Perhaps if it had just been her parents it would have been easier for her to swallow. Both of her parents and all three of her siblings, dead? There was simply no way she could believe that her entire family had been killed on the same day and in a matter of seconds.

The officer who had knocked on her door carrying his cap in his hands stood perfectly still and looked at her, pityingly. He was waiting for a response, she knew, but all she could think of doing was laugh in his face. This had to be a joke, a sick prank of some sort. She imagined Edmund hiding behind that bush, a smirk on his face. Lucy stood behind him, thought Susan, a merry twinkle in her eyes. Peter's laugh was deep and joyful as they came out and joined her on the pavement in front of her house.

No one came out from behind the bushes. Deep down inside, she knew no one would. Her siblings were not the kind of people to pull this kind of prank. The police officer merely stood there, still waiting for her response. What was the proper response to give after someone has delivered such horrible news? Was she supposed to say something to him? Perhaps he was waiting for her to say "thank you," or "have a nice day." Should she invite him inside and offer him tea and biscuits?

"Miss, I'm terribly sorry for your loss," the man said. Hadn't he said that already? "Are you alright?"

Susan almost laughed at that. He hadn't just asked her if she was alright, had he? She looked at the officer in disbelief.

The man stuttered, "My apologies, miss, I don't know why I asked that. What I meant to say is, do you need anything? Is there anyone I should call for you?"

Was there anyone? Who did she need to tell? Of course there was the schools, she would have to let them know that Edmund and Lucy would not be returning. Mum and Father's jobs needed to hear the news. She should call some of their friends, if she could. And she would need to plan the funerals. Was this real?

"Are you sure it's them? How do you know?" That was it. It was a mistake. Yes, there may have been a train crash, but her siblings, her parents, they hadn't been in the crash. The police must have mistaken her family for... other people.

"We're certain. We confirmed their identities with their train tickets and they carried identification cards with them."

"Can I see them?" The words were out of her mouth before she had a chance to consider what they meant. Did she want to see them now? A train wreck could do horrid things to a person's… to a person. Was it painful? Had they suffered long?

The officer hesitated before he answered. "Miss, perhaps that would be unwise."

Suddenly Susan knew she needed to see them, one last time. She would never believe it was true if she didn't see them. "Where are they?"

"Everyone is being brought to the hospital, for now, until the authorities have had a chance to sort things out further."

"Alright, thank you."

"Again, I'm sorry for your loss," the officer said. Then he turned around, readjusted his cap on his head, and left.

Susan slowly closed the door. Her flat suddenly felt more dark and quiet than it ever had before, even with the lights shining brightly in the room. Nothing looked familiar to her; everything she owned had taken on a strange and uncomfortable form she didn't recognize. _This must be a dream_ , she decided. _When I wake up I'll call siblings and we'll plan to have lunch together, and everything will be as it should be. I might even tell them about this dream I had, and we'll laugh at it together as we eat._

Susan moved throughout the room, randomly picking things up and looking at them without reason. Somewhere in the back of her mind she was still trying to think of ways to style her hair before the party, but she was no longer sure she wanted to attend. She suddenly felt drained. Every ounce of energy she possessed had slipped away in a matter of seconds. All she wanted to do was crawl back into bed and go to sleep.

That was it, she thought. She turned off the lights and drew the curtains shut to block out the bright sun. She curled up in her bed, pulling the comforter around her shoulders and holding it tightly to her body. She shivered and realized suddenly that she felt extremely cold. She closed her eyes and waited for sleep to come. Despite desperately wanting to fall asleep, her mind kept racing in circles, picturing her siblings as they laughed and worked and played together. She prayed when she woke up she would be able to call them and tell them about this mad dream she was having, but deep down she knew the truth.

She was alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**I would like to note that if this story seems rather grim or depressing, I hope to bring things to light in future chapters, so do not despair.**

 **I, again, do not own Susan Pevensie or the world of Narnia.**

* * *

 _The service was beautiful._

Everyone who had walked past, given her their condolences, had said so. Susan wondered whether a funeral service could be described as beautiful. Especially a service for so many people. Shouldn't funerals be sad, solemn affairs? Shouldn't the sun be covered by clouds, the sky filled with rain? Yes, many people preferred to celebrate the lives that their loved ones had been able to live, but Susan still felt shocked at the number of deaths she was forced to experience simultaneously. She hadn't had the time to properly grieve each member of her family and struggled to see any beauty in saying goodbye to her family and friends so quickly.

 _I'm so sorry for your loss._

The words felt like someone tried to slap a band-aid on a deep, jagged knife wound. Susan merely smiled and nodded at those who apologized for her. She knew the words were meant to be comforting, that they were intended to somehow make her feel less alone. She just struggled to see how their apologies could help. None of their words were making her feel better. She wished they would stop trying to make her feel better and leave her to grieve in peace, but everyone wanted to give her some kind words to lighten her burden or advice for her future.

 _I know just how you feel, I lost my own mother years ago._

Susan hadn't figured out how to respond to this one yet. She had heard it in its many forms, the word mother replaced with father and brother and sister over and over again. She wanted to scream at people that they did not, in fact, know how she felt. They couldn't. Perhaps they had lost a relative, but had any of them lost everyone, every member of their family, in one day? No. If they had, they might have realized that words weren't enough for a time like this. Besides, none of them could understand the relationships Susan had with each of her family members. They couldn't understand the vast holes each one of the people now laying in the ground had left in her life.

 _Please let me know if you need anything._

Susan found it hard not to laugh at people who said this. She needed her family back, but no one could give her that. She knew what they meant to offer-perhaps a dinner, or maybe even a shoulder to cry on-but she also knew she wouldn't come asking any of them for help. In some way it felt like the words were more an obligation than a genuine offer to help. The situation felt slightly awkward to everyone involved, as no on was quite sure how they could help someone in such dreadful times, but no one wanted to leave without at least offering to help.

 _Our thoughts are with you in this difficult time._

Susan knew this was a genuine sentiment, but she also struggled with the fact that so many of these people would walk away from today largely unchanged. A friend was gone, yes, but they'd return to work tomorrow and, in time, things would fall back to normal. People assured her that the same would happen to her, that the pain would fade away as the months past, or that it would at least become easier to move on, but Susan wasn't so sure. She certainly wasn't ready to move on yet.

 _They're in a better place now, I'm just sure of it._

This one, in particular, gnawed at Susan's soul. Could all of her family and closest friends be in a better place? Was that 'better place' better because Susan wasn't there? Why couldn't she be with the people she loved? Did they miss her? Did they even remember her? Or were they too busy 'in a better place' to think about the sister, the daughter, the friend they had left behind?

Overall, Susan couldn't decide whether to feel bitter or angry or frustrated with all of the people who tried to comfort her. Over time, the words had begun to run into each other. The faces of people who stopped to greet her blurred together until she could not pay attention to who was speaking to her or what they were saying. She felt numb, hearing the same words over and over again and wishing that this was all a dream.

Later, Susan would come to recognize these were well-intentioned thoughts from friends who cared deeply about her but simply did not know how to approach someone who had just lost her entire family in one day. She would also come to realize that nothing that anyone could have said to her would have been very comforting, but that they had all tried to support her in the best way they knew how. But for now, Susan only knew these words to be empty platitudes from people who couldn't do anything to change the past.

Susan stood over the stones lined neatly up, one after the other after the other. Inscribed in a simple text were their names and the dates their lives had begun and ended. Susan couldn't help but wonder if this was how life ended, a few letters and numbers engraved in a stone, then what was the point? In a hundred years would anyone remember her family? Would anyone come stand over these stones, as she did now, and remember Lucy's joyful laugh or Edmund's sly smirk or Peter's comforting voice? When would her name be placed on one of these stones? With all of her family gone, who would come by and stop to remember her?

Susan turned away from the many graves they had just filled and slowly began her walk home.


	3. Chapter 3

**I do not own Susan Pevensie or Narnia.**

* * *

Susan walked home from the cemetery in the rain. The wind beat against her jacket and her umbrella hung loosely from her hands, unopened and completely dry. The rain made her feel alive, somehow, and she didn't have the energy to hold the umbrella above her head anyway.

Thunder echoed in the distance, startling a small kitten from under a car. It darted across the street and crawled beneath the bushes in front of Susan's house. It huddled under the bushes, already soaking wet, clearly trying to find shelter from the rain. Susan walked up the bush and knelt, looking for the small kitten under the bush. It was shaking, though whether it shook from fear or from the cold Susan wasn't sure. Susan reached out a hand to pick it up, but the kitten fled further underneath the bush.

"Come, cousin," Susan said in a soothing tone. _Cousin?_ Where had that come from? She was talking to a kitten, not a human. "It'll be ok, you'll be safe with me. I have milk inside the house, and blankets. It's dry and comfortable inside, much more than it is out here in the rain. Just come this way and we'll go inside together."

The kitten hesitated, but Susan's gentle movements and soothing voice coaxed the kitten to approach her open hands. Susan was able to slowly pick up the kitten and hug it to her chest. "There, little one. You're safe. Let's get inside and dry you off."

Susan opened the front door of her house and walked the kitten to the bathroom, grabbing a soft towel from a closet on the way. "Little kitten, you are covered in mud. Let's get you cleaned up." She turned on some warm water in the faucet and plugged the drain, filling the sink with water. She stroked the kitten behind the neck as they waited. "If you're a good kitten, I'll give you a bowl of milk soon." Susan continued to soothe the kitten with sweet nothings as she used a washcloth to gently wash the dirt and mud out of the kitten's fur.

Slowly, the water became murky as the dirt was washed from his fur. "Look at how handsome you are," Susan praised. "You have the most beautiful, snowy fur." Indeed, the kitten was completely white, save for his front left paw, which had a small black boot. Susan carefully dried the kitten with a fresh towel and placed him on the ground. He gazed up at her curiously and meowed.

"Yes, kitten, I promised you some milk, and you shall have it. You are much too thin," Susan smiled, leading the kitten into the kitchen and pulling a small bowl from the cabinet. She poured a generous amount of milk into the bowl and placed it on the floor.

"My, you're a hungry one," Susan said as she watched the kitten lap up the milk. She sat down on the floor and leaned against the kitchen cabinets. "I suppose I'll have to give you a name. Would you like that?"

The kitten continued lapping the milk, ignoring Susan's musings. "Of course, you'd like a name. Let me think. Perhaps Kari. Or Jasper?" The kitten finished the last droplets of milk and purred. Susan smiled. "I like the name Jasper, too. It's nice to meet you, Jasper."

The kitten began exploring the kitchen, sniffing the cupboards and searching the corners of the room for hidden treasures. Susan continued to watch her new companion for a couple minutes before making her way over to the stove to start the kettle. "Jasper, I think it's time for a little tea, don't you?" She added some honey and milk to the tea and cradled the warm teacup in her hands. It felt comforting, the familiar curve in the cup resting in her hands.

She walked into the living room and sat down on the sofa, pulling a blanket over her legs. The kitten followed her, sniffing the rug and the legs of the coffee table before jumping up onto the sofa next to Susan. Jasper spun around a couple times on the blanket, then curled up by her legs and closed his eyes, content to rest with his new friend. Susan absentmindedly began stroking Jasper behind the ears and sipped her tea, gazing out the window as rain continued to fall.

"Oh, Jasper," Susan sighed. "What on earth shall we do now?"


End file.
